The early morning commute to Hamamatscho station was done through sleepy eyes and following a disappointing breakfast we joined the queue for our bus, wearing our top tourist badges, and analysed our fellow passengers. Of note was a friendly English chatterbox who was intent on telling an equally enthusiastic American all about his commute to work, followed by a group of young girls accompanied by a Japanese don, and then there was Mr and Mrs P. Obnoxious. The P stood for plastic as it would be very uncomfortable for her to lie on her front, though I'm not sure if her lips or chest would have made more contact with the ground. They had an attitude to match their image as, first on to the bus, they immediately reclined their seats to secure the extra fraction of air space for their self inflated egos and body parts, but in the process earning themselves a unanimous unspoken label of 'tw@ts' from everybody else.

The reason I was able to analyse them so closely is because they were luxuriating in the seats in front of us and I became very well acquainted with their overt personal displays of affection and shallow selfish natures whilst staring at the tops of their perfumed heads, which were practically in my lap. Fortunately there were some free seats at the back of the bus so we politely retreated, taking care to give their seats a good shaking on the way out. We exchanged knowingly smiles with the other passengers, who sat politely upright as we passed and as we sat down the coach headed out into the Tokyo traffic.

As we moved at snails pace along the freeway I had time to write messages on the attractive woodcut postcards, mostly featuring the elusive Mount Fuji, which we kept getting glimpses of between the valleys. Eventually we passed the accident which had caused the congestion and cruised deep into the amazingly steep Japanese mountains.

As the valleys gave way to paddy fields we were finally treated to a panorama of the huge, cartoonlike volcanic mass filling the horizon a ahead. Its height of nearly 4000m justified the snow covering of its upper slopes and it was very clear why it was such an iconic landmark and artists dream.

We pulled up on the lake shore and whilst the rest of the tourists were shepherded to a restaurant Bob and I grabbed some takeaway sushi and ate it on the waters edge. It was soon time for our 20 minute 'boat tour' of the lake, crammed on to a high speed barge, followed by a trip up a ridiculously tacky cable car from where the view of Mt. Fuji was beautifully obscured by clouds. We were herded back to the bus having descended the tiny gondola covered in plastic beavers and the coach set off to climb up the sacred slope. The free gift of a tiny bell, such as a Lindt bunny would wear, as we arrived at the tourist stop on the slopes of the noble mountain was a really special surprise.

I am under no illusion that I am a tourist, but watching the coach loads of camera wielding, visor wearing, bumbag sporting taking rubbish photos of each other completely devalued what was once an incredibly sacred, and in better weather a stunningly beautiful place. Human nature is an odd creature but what did I expect from a nation who are the worlds top tourists.

Fortunately our whistle stop tour only permitted us half an hour in this shallow hell hole and we were soon on our way to the Shinkansen station. I was lucky enough to get a fleeting private and unobstructed view of the mountain so that I could Fujify the Fuji through the back window of the bus, as the clouds cleared briefly, but soon we left the coach and were running through the station to catch the worlds fastest train. It slid into the station almost silently like an elegantly powerful snake, and we managed to get a pair of seats infront of team obnoxious. With our seats fully reclined we were pushed into them as the amazing feat of engineering accelerated out of the station. It kept on accelerating until the buildings were just blurs, we tilted as we turned gentle corners but the whole experience was incredible and we pulled into Tokyo after only half an hour, having covered 110km.

We headed straight for supper in Shinjuku. Being Saturday night the city centre was rammed and the atmosphere was as exciting as the neon explosion which spread at least 4 floors up on all sides.

We managed to get a table at another popular sushi bar and experimented a little further with our selections, revelling in the whole experience before heading back through the crowds to our tiny room to pack in readiness for tomorrow's departure.